The Dark Times: A Zombie Novel

by Dane Hatchell

  Patrick made a face as if trying to understand and then gave a thumbs up. “Good.”

  “Okay, good then. We’ll be able to rock.”

  Debra smiled and led Patrick away holding his hand. Angie and Quin headed back toward their tent, which left Drew and his wife alone by the grill.

  “Is Sarah going to be okay?” Rico asked.

  “You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here, okay?” Sarah said. “I’ll be fine. I just need my medicine. You don’t know what it’s like. Feeling this way. You think I don’t realize that my life is a rollercoaster? Well, it is, and it makes my head hurt just thinking about it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rico said, not sure what he should say—if anything at all.

  “Here.” Drew pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I figured we would be doing another run for supplies soon, so I wrote down what she needs.”

  Rico took the paper, studied it for a moment, and then stuffed it into his pocket.

  ***

  “I wish you didn’t have to go on a run before we pack up and leave this place,” Debra said, a gust of wind blowing her blonde hair in front of her eyes. She quickly pulled it away and faced the breeze. The roof was her favorite place to sneak off to.

  Patrick stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms across her chest. “I wish we didn’t, either. I know it’s selfish, but I wish you and me could just up and leave on our own.”

  “Then why don’t we?”

  “You don’t really mean that, do you? You could go off and leave your parents behind?” Patrick asked.

  “Part of me wants to. Not that I want to leave them. It’s just that I know they’ll flip out when they find out about us. It’d just be easier not to deal with it.”

  Patrick let her go and scratched the back of his head. “Don’t worry about your parents. You just let me handle things. Your dad knows you’re growing up—it scares him. I think I’ll bring him around eventually. Once that happens, he’ll convince your mom everything is okay.”

  “Maybe, but what if he freaks and you two get into a fight or something?”

  “Honestly, it’s the chance we’re going to have to take. As romantic as it sounds for us to leave and live a life together, we need to stay as a group. It’s really our best chance for survival. One day though, when all this is over,” Patrick waved a hand toward the mass of zombies below, “we’ll move away and have a place of our own.”

  Debra walked to the edge of the roof and looked down. “You know, when we talk about starting a life together, I get all happy inside. Then, when I turn and face reality, our future seems to be a dream that will never come true. How can we hope to ever live in peace when monsters like that are everywhere?”

  “Look at them though.” Patrick came to her side. “There’s a bunch of them but they’re stupid. They’re driven by one instinct, to satisfy hunger. It shouldn’t take long for us to outsmart these things and do away with them once and for all. I’m sure the government just needs a little time to regroup before putting a plan in action. If we escape to a remote location where we can wait it out, then the dream will become a reality.”

  “Do you really believe that, or are you saying it just to make me feel safe?”

  “I’m saying it because I believe it. History is filled with stories where groups of people are faced with insurmountable odds and they survive. In this case, all of mankind finds themselves fighting for the same side. There’s no way this alien zombie menace will wipe out Mother Nature’s greatest creation.”

  Debra grabbed Patrick’s hand. “When you say it that way, it makes it sound like we’re at war unlike any war before.”

  “It is a war. And there can only be one victor.”

  ***

  Two hours latter Rico, Quin, and Patrick climbed into the van at the back of the sporting goods store. With the engine cranked and the van rolling, Rico watched in the side mirror as they drove past his motorcycle. He longed to feel its power—its freedom— again. Wanted more than anything for things to be the way they were in the beginning and grab Angie and leave. Never look back. They were better off before all of this. Before the group. Having more people around only complicated things.

  The van turned the corner and headed out toward the road.

  “You mentioned you led some of the dead away from the store a time or two in the past. I think it would be a good idea to do that now, don’t you?” Rico pointed toward the Academy parking lot.

  The parking lot didn’t have a single yard of pavement in view. It was nothing but shambling bodies. Rico imagined that parking lot was what it must have looked like at Woodstock back in the day. Just bodies as far as the eye could see.

  “We’ll do it later,” Quin said, his upper lip rose as if he smelled something bad. “Don’t want them dead creeps following us to the CVS. That wouldn’t be good at all, you feel?”

  “Right,” Rico nodded, turning his attention away from the sporting good store’s parking lot and toward the road ahead.

  The van passed a number of zombies milling aimlessly about, but nothing like what was at the sports store.

  Once Academy was out of sight, Quin cleared his throat. “I know you was outside my tent last night, yo.”

  Rico felt like he had just gotten slapped across the face. Was Q in the mood to pick a fight? He watched Patrick turn his gaze to the back of the van.

  Quin laughed. “Don’t worry about that sushi chompin’ muthafucka. He don’t understand us no how.”

  Rico’s lips mashed together, and his cheek began to twitch.

  “You was standing outside my tent when I was fuckin’ your girl. You like watchin’ us or somethin’?”

  Your girl, he thought. He’s trying to make it personal. “Excuse me?” Rico resisted taking the bait.

  “What, did I stutter? I asked you if you got a thing for watchin’ people fuck?”

  “Hey, man,” Rico stopped himself and took a breath, then raised a hand. “What Angie does is none of my business.”

  “Then why you been makin’ it your business? I know how you feel about that bitch. I seen the way you been lookin’ at her. She don’t want you and your little Mexican burrito. She wants a real man. A man that knows how to stuff that shit.”

  “Don’t you dare talk about her like that!”

  “Or what, Rico?” Quin grinned, showing his gold teeth. “You gonna arrest me? Get over it, yo. She don’t want you. So quit dreamin’ and quit hoverin’ over my tent. You know, I squirted in that bitch’s face and she loved it. Licked it right up. That bitch is nasty. The only kinds of sluts that run that game been runnin’ the train, you feel?”

  The bastard wanted a fight, and Rico was about to make his wish come true. “Shut the fuck up before I—”

  “Before you what, Rico?”

  Rico reached for his gun.

  “Don’t even think about it, pussy.”

  The van rocked as it clipped something on the right side and then came to a violent stop. Not having his seatbelt on, Quin tumbled forward. Rico reached out and caught Q—mainly to keep him from smashing hard against him. The airbag burst from the steering wheel, and the horn blared a continuous bleat as smoke bellowed out from under the van’s hood.

  Quin grabbed at his head and flopped down on the floor.

  Rico unbuckled his seat belt and leaned up to get a better look at Patrick, who was pulling himself away from the steering wheel. Patrick’s eye was already swollen shut, his bottom lip busted. Blood ran down his chin.

  “You okay?” Rico shouted over the horn’s wail.

  Patrick reached up and touched his eye. He winced in pain. When his mouth opened, Rico saw blood stained teeth.

  “What the fuck, yo? You didn’t see that fucking car or what?”

  “Now isn’t the time,” Rico shouted. “You okay?”

  Quin nodded, still holding a hand to his head.

  “We need to leave. The noise will attract the undead.”

  “No shit,” Q
uin said, and then groaned.

  “Think you can move?” Rico asked, trying to help Patrick.

  “Yeah.” Patrick grimaced. “I’m a little shaken up, but I think I’ll be okay.”

  “What the hell? That muthafucka speaks English?”

  “Not now, Quin!” Rico looked to Patrick. “Can you sit up?”

  Patrick nodded.

  As much as Rico was surprised to find out the Asian could, in fact, speak English, now wasn’t the time to have Patrick explain. He would have time to do plenty of that when they got back to the sporting goods store.

  “Fuck seein’ if Bruce Lee can move. See if the van’ll start.”

  “I highly doubt it’s going to start,” Rico said, pointing toward the hood past the shattered windshield. “The front bumper is folded into the hood pretty good, and that steam coming out means the radiator’s busted.”

  “Well, what about taking one of these cars?” Quin shouted, just as the horn finally gasped like a dying goose and went silent.

  Moans rose in the distance.

  Chapter 29

  “We need to move.” Rico reached around and unbuckled Patrick’s seat belt. “Think you can walk?”

  ”I think so. My legs feel okay, but my chest and face . . .” Patrick’s words faded into a cough.

  Rico scrounged around the floorboard and found the three radios. He gave one to Quin and clipped the other two on his belt.

  “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind, yo? That would be suicide goin’ out there on foot! We need some wheels. The store must be like five miles away,” Quin said.

  “More like two miles.” Rico glared at Quin, unholstering the pistol from his hip and chambering a round. He jammed it home and looked back up at both men. “I don’t think we have much of a choice. We’re as good as dead if we sit here and do nothing. If you can hear them, then you know they’re close by.”

  “He’s right,” Patrick said between pursed lips and gritting teeth.

  “Fuck, yo.” Quin threw his hands up.

  “The store is only about two miles back. That’s not all that bad. Could be worse. Could be twenty miles back. But it’s not. So let’s go before it’s too late.”

  Rico nodded at Patrick. Patrick nodded back.

  “Okay,” Rico said, opening the van passenger door and stepping out into the street. “Patrick’s in bad shape. I’ll be the lead. Patrick stays in the middle, and Quin, you cover us at the rear. And don’t shoot unless you absolutely have to. These things are attracted by sound. We can handle them at close range without our weapons so long as it’s only a few. Firing a gun will only attract more. And then… well, then we’re fucked.”

  “Fucked? No, I’m fucked,” Quin said, helping Patrick out of the van and then stepping down onto the street behind him. “You just want me at the rear so I can get eat up by those fuckers. Hell no. You follow up at the rear. I’ll lead.”

  “We don’t have time to argue,” Rico said, and then sighed. “Whatever, just start leading the way.”

  “My pleasure,” Quin said, turning back to the wrecked van and pulling his shotgun from the floorboard. “Let’s go!”

  “Just take it easy and don’t get too far ahead of us.”

  The three men stepped away from the van, scanning the street. There were no zombies lumbering toward them, at least, not yet. The air carried putrescent aroma and undead moans which echoed off of the buildings around them.

  Rico walked at a brisk pace with a hand on Patrick’s back—practically pushing him forward. Quin took the lead and never once looked back. The tall black man’s dreads bobbed and swayed back and forth with each pounding step on the concrete. He didn’t come to a stop until he reached the end of a building. Quin poked his head around the corner.

  “We clear?” Patrick asked, blood dripping from his mouth and down his hand to his elbow.

  Quin didn’t reply. Probably didn’t hear the man’s weak voice. He kept his gaze fixed down the street.

  Rico glanced toward the van. It was now at the end of the block, but still in view. That was when he saw them. The undead emerged from behind buildings and around corners. With each step forward, the moans grew louder.

  “I’m gonna try that car,” Quin pointed.

  “We don’t have time for that. Let’s just stay low and keep moving.”

  However, it was useless. Quin dashed toward a green Saturn parked on the side of the road.

  By the time Rico and Patrick caught up, Q had already tried the passenger door and had moved over to the driver’s side.

  “You’re wasting time. We’ve got to keep moving,” Rico said.

  “Man, shut up.” Quin yanked on the door handle. “You ain’t in charge of nothin’!”

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “We’ve got company.” Patrick pointed back toward the van.

  Rico didn’t even bother to look at what he already knew was happening down the street.

  “Shit, it’s locked.”

  “Of course it’s locked. It’s parked on the side of the street,” Rico said. “You could break out the glass, but what are the chances of the keys being in a parked car? We’ll check out the next abandoned one we come to. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Suit yourself, dipshit,” Quin said. “But when I get a ride, I’m leaving your ass behind. Go back to the store and slide my dick back in that blonde bitch of yours.”

  “You motherfu—” Rico charged forward, slamming into Quin.

  Quin fell back and bounced off the Saturn. He dropped his shotgun in an attempt to block Rico’s punch. It didn’t work. Rico’s fist met square with the tall dread-head’s jaw. The connecting blow cracked like the sound of a lion tamer’s whip. The impact of the punch sent Quin to his knees.

  Holding his mouth, Quin spat blood on Rico’s boot. “You hit like a girl.”

  “Guys, please!”

  Ignoring Patrick, Rico said, “Soon as we get back, I’m out. Fuck you. And fuck the rest of the group. I’m gathering my gear and taking Angie with me. I’m taking her as far away from you as I can. You stupid prick. You’re a bad influence. She deserves better than you!”

  Quin laughed.

  “Guys!” Patrick shouted again.

  “What’s so funny?” Rico asked.

  “Better than me, yo?” Quin grabbed his shotgun and stood to his feet. Still holding his jaw, he said, “That bitch ain’t never gonna change. She’s been turnin’ tricks for so long that’s all she know how to do. And she’ll keep doing it, too. You know how I know, Rico? Because she tricked you!”

  Quin broke out in laughter and then turned and walked away.

  “Where are you going?” Rico called.

  “Back to the store. You two dipshits can find your own way back, you feel?”

  Quin’s laugh faded as he picked up his pace and began jogging down the side street.

  ***

  The situation didn’t go quite as Quin had planned. He thought he could get Rico to back down and let him lead the group. The cop had less bitch in him than Quin gave him credit for. He at least thought Rico would submit to his authority just to preserve the peace in the group. Especially since Angie had come on over to his side.

  If that dumb muthafucka thinks he’s gonna take Angie from me, he’s got another think comin’, Quin thought, heading toward the store.

  And what was the deal with that Bruce Lee, muthafuckin’ Patrick? That son-of-a-bitch spoke English better than he did. What’s up with that? What else was that prick hiding?

  Now with Rico in enemy mode and Patrick a potential adversary, Quin’s clout in the group had dropped dramatically. He felt he could bully his way with Drew when it came right down to it. Drew had to deal with his wife’s shit and wouldn’t have the stamina to take him on head to head for leadership.

  Fortunately, Quin recognized the area and knew the quickest route back to Academy. If he was lucky enough to make it back, he was determined to show them who was boss, once and for all.
>
  ***

  “We need to stay focused on what’s in front of us, not what’s behind us,” Rico said. “They’re too slow to catch up with us from the van.”

  Patrick nodded, watching the undead leak into the streets in droves. There had to be at least twenty of them now—some of them closing the distance to the van at a faster pace than others.

  “Think you got it in you to do a little running?” Rico hesitated to ask because Patrick looked like death warmed over.

  “I can at least try to run for a little ways. I feel like dog shit.” Patrick pulled out his revolver and held it close to his chest. “Damn, I wish we at least had a bicycle.”

  Rico gazed toward the path Quin took and realized he had no fucking clue where he was, or how to get back to the store. “You really could speak English all this time?”

  ”Yes, English is my first language. I didn’t learn Mandarin until I went to college.”

  “Why would you pretend you didn’t understand? I wasted a lot of fucking time over-explaining things hoping you’d pick up on the gist of the conversation. Others did, too.”

  “I had my reasons,” Patrick said. “Trust issues, mainly.”

  Rico nodded and left it at that. If they didn’t make it back to the store, it wouldn’t matter anyway. Rico went from thinking Patrick might have a little of the crazy going on in his head to considering maybe the young man was ‘crazy like a fox.’ Quin had just now showed all his true colors to Rico. He’d bet Quin showed his ass a lot sooner in front of Patrick when he thought the Asian couldn’t understand him.

  “All right, let’s go. We take the same way Quin went?” Rico asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Stay low and avoid any undead, if possible. They’re slow, so I hope we can just outrun them.”

  Patrick turned and started off in a slow jog. Rico wished they could have moved faster, but considering everything, they were lucky Patrick could walk at all. After a few blocks, Patrick had them turning lefts and rights—snaking in between houses and buildings in an area where residential and business converged. At least one of them knew where they were and where they were going. Otherwise, Rico was sure he would have gotten lost. So far, they had been lucky. No run-ins with the undead yet.